The winding two-lane highway rests on a meager shelf cut out or blasted out of the mountains, but, as with all violations of entropy, disorder was wearing away at its edges. Rubble, landslides, and signs from working crews showed that the road had to be worked on constantly to keep it open. I could see from the cliffs around me that this was the real edge of America, and I thought it was a beautiful way to end a country.

It’s funny you should mention the timing of this post. Even though I had been intending to cite this quote from Thompson for quite awhile (because it really does come to mind each time I travel along the Northern California coastline), the miracle that occurred on November 4 was also in my thoughts as I wrote this.

I briefly considered writing a somewhat longer post that contrasted the notion of “a beautiful way to end a country” with the idea of the new beginning ushered in by the electorate on the 4th. But intermingling the two concepts seemed to muddy both, so — somewhat uncharacteristically — I opted for the shorter, simpler statement.

But I’m glad you brought up this additional point of view. No coincidences, indeed. (For additional commentary on this latter point, see “Twin Peaks meets INLAND EMPIRE“.)